


Achilles Come Down

by poisonedlace



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian and Jason both speak Arabic, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Gen, Gratuitous em dashes, I did not attempt to use Arabic, Jason Todd-centric, Jason is fucked up, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Plot Devices, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Tim makes a guest appearance, and language, but fuck it, i do not, probably incorrectly, rated for suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonedlace/pseuds/poisonedlace
Summary: Dick finds Jason on a roof. Well, find is a strong word. Either way, this isn’t going to be an easy conversation.Oneshot based off of the song Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths[beta’d by the wonderful @blueviolet2004]
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd, background/mentioned
Comments: 2
Kudos: 236
Collections: A-Z Alternative Music Fics 2020





	Achilles Come Down

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like a day. Got it beta’d by @blueviolet2004 at like 10 pm a week later. Hope y’all like it!

Dick lands on the roof and his blood runs cold, despite the oppressive humidity of a summer night in Gotham. Jason sits on the edge of the bank building, his combat boots swinging through the air fifteen stories above the street.

There’s a cigarette stuck between the index and middle fingers of his right hand, his phone clutched in his left. Dick spares half a braincell to wince internally at Alfred’s inevitable disappointment at the younger’s bad habits.

Then he remembers why he’s there.

“Jason,” Dick calls quietly, and his voice carries across the roof. Gotham is quiet tonight, like it’s holding its breath for the scene unfolding.

Jason doesn’t turn, but his shoulders tense. When he calls back, his voice is weak.

“Dick?”

He has to hold himself up when he hears it, pushing back at the flood of memories of a little brother with stars in his eyes.

Dick crosses the roof.

“Hey, Jay. What’s going on?” It’s a weak attempt at the de-escalation techniques that Bruce had them learn, and they both know it. Jason huffs a laugh.

“Hating myself, nothing new. I mean, except for the roof, I guess. Usually I’m locked in my apartment.”

The admission feels like giving ground, to Dick. He’s been the closest to Jason since his resurrection—excluding Alfred—but they’d never talked about things like that. He tells Roy, though, and that’s always been a trip, since he had been with Roy while Jason was still Robin.

Those years while Jason had replaced him had felt like they would last forever. Then his little brother had died. Now Jason’s an adult, and he’s with Roy, and sometimes he’s with Kori, too, and Dick can’t help the bitterness that rises in his throat when he thinks about it.

Jason willingly telling him this just makes him think something is a lot more wrong than before.

Dick sends a silent thanks to Barbara for making them upgrade to new comm equipment that lets them change channels silently, because he singles out Roy and Kori without Jason seeing.

“Really? You know the Manor’s always open. Alfred would love it if you visited more.” Dick says, only a hint of the desperation he’s feeling coming through. Bruce would be proud.

Jason laughs again, hysteria bleeding in around the edges of it, and he stubs out his cigarette, sealing it away in the bag Dick watched him beg Barbara to make so that he wouldn’t litter.

Softie.

“I can’t- I can’t be there like that. It makes me feel small, like the kid Bruce took off the streets. Like I’m still his son.”

Half of Dick is ready to murder their father as soon as he gets Jason safe. The other half would be, but it’s too busy focusing on Jason. He knows Roy and Kori are listening, though, even if he can’t hear them.

Dick forces calm into his voice, and he sits next to Jason. “You are still his son.”

“No,” Jason shakes his head, “That Jason is dead. Bruce knows that.”

Dick looks at Jason, looks at the white streak in black-dyed hair, green eyes that used to be blue, pale scars over used-to-be-tan skin.

“I don’t think he’s as dead as you think.”

Jason looks confused, those too-green eyes staring at him, looking for signs of mocking or lying.

Dick lays a careful hand on Jason’s arm. “I know you have holes in your memory, but sometimes you’ll do something, or say something, and it just feels like you’re the same. Changed, of course, I mean, no one is the same person they were at fifteen years old.”

Jason doesn’t pull away, so Dick leaves his hand where it is.

“Like what?”

It was clearly meant to be scathing, but sadness and desperation rendered the sentence nothing more than a plea.

Dick was more than willing to oblige, though. “Last week, with the copy of Pride and Prejudice. Your horror at Tim annotating in the book was the same as when I was in college and did the same with my textbooks.”

Dick cast his mind around, looking for more examples. His biggest regret had been avoiding Jason, but he still had plenty of memories that Jason didn’t.

“Like, the look you get when you’ve set up a prank, especially on Bruce. He can’t see it because you got it from him, but I saw it so many times when I was still pissy with him. I just never warned him.”

Jason looks a little less like he wants to crawl out of his skin with every example, so he keeps going.

“When Alfred scolded you for bringing wine to dinner? It was like every single time he told you not to ruin your appetite with cookies. Sometimes I think he forgets that you’re an adult now. I think he forgets that _I’m_ an adult now.”

Jason chuckles at the memory, and Dick smiles, though it’s more in relief than anything.

Dick starts on the next story but Bruce’s voice crackles over the comms.

“We’ve got a situation with Scarecrow. Hood, the toxin doesn’t work on you, right?”

Jason answers in the affirmative.

“Can you come down and make sure Robin doesn’t get hit? Last time wasn’t pretty.” Bruce asks, and Dick can’t help but wonder how many times Jason’s been hurting and they’ve called him out for help without even knowing. How many times he’s pushed aside pain for them.

But they get up anyways, Dick putting his domino back on from when he was rushing to get there, Jason snagging his helmet from the floor. Jason loads a magazine into his gun, and Dick’s seen him do it enough to know that it’s loaded with real bullets. He shuts down the transmission to Roy and Kori, preparing to focus on the fight.

Dick doesn’t understand how Jason and Damian know each other, but the protectiveness Jason shows is the same that Dick feels. He knows in the vaguest terms, in jokes between the two, in the way Jason mutters in Arabic that Dick doesn’t remember him learning.

He knows that Talia brought him back to life in an attempt to get back on Bruce’s good side.

But every time Dick asks either one of them about it, all he gets is something vague—Damian—or a conspiratorial wink and dismissal—Jason—and neither are very satisfying answers.

The pair swings onto the scene to find Robin literally stashed in an alley down from the fight, and Bruce shouting crazy shit at Scarecrow.

Damian mutters something in Arabic, and not for the last time, Dick wishes he’d taken that college course.

Jason answers, and soon it sounds like they’re arguing.

“Okay then, I’m gonna go check on B.” Dick says, fumbling for an excuse to stop standing awkwardly.

Jason shakes his head. “You, sir, are taking the kid home. I got B.”

Dick goes to protest, but Damian beats him to it. He spits something in Arabic, and Jason glares at him.

“No. You are a child, and you are very susceptible to the toxin. And watch your mouth, brat. Alfred will wash it out with soap. Go with big bird, Bruce and I will be fine.”

Damian pouts, but moves to Dick’s side.

Jason pulls his gun, and shoves his helmet back over his head. “And keep it in English, doofus. Dickie never learned the League language.”

Then he’s gone. Not a mention of what happened, and Dick only worries more.

It takes less than ten minutes for Dick to get Damian home. It’s an hour after that when Bruce slams into the cave, dragging Jason behind him. His helmet is nowhere to be seen and his eyes are squeezed shut.

Dick’s by their side in seconds, so fast that he doesn’t even remember moving. Bruce wrestles Jason down onto one of the chairs Dick spent thirteen days pestering Bruce about while he was still Robin.

“What happened?” Dick demands, watching Bruce unclasp his body armor with shaking fingers.

Bruce huffs, “Jason got hit. Apparently, Scarecrow got an upgrade.”

As if on cue, Jason flinches away from something they can’t see, cursing softly when he bangs his head into the chair.

“He’s going to be pissed that you didn’t take him to his place.” Dick says, wedging Jason out of his bloodstained leather jacket

“I already am.” Jason snaps, doing his best to help with his eyes still closed. Bruce sweeps out of the room, trusting Dick with Jason. Probably a good idea. In Dick’s opinion, Bruce was never really good with this stuff, especially when it came to Jason.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh good, you’re still conscious.”

Jason gives a middle finger in his vague direction, but doesn’t continue his protests, so Dick takes that as a win. Together, through the occasional flinch and, in one instance, a punch thrown by Jason and dodged by Dick, they get him out of his body armor and boots, and onto a couch in the manor.

Tim’s typing furiously on his phone, but Dick knows that Bruce had filled him in. Likely he was talking to Barbara about getting a sample and formulating an antidote.

Unless they had one in the next ten minutes, though, Jason was just going to have to wait it out.

Dick starts up a conversation with Tim, filling the room with background noise. Eventually, though, Tim leaves, probably to discuss chemistry with his science-friends. As smart as he is, Dick did fail chemistry. Twice. So he’s not much help with that.

It’s around three am when Jason finally drops into sleep, and Dick isn’t far behind. They’ve been on all-nighters for the past week, and Dick hasn’t run on this little sleep since he was on the force.

So, yeah, he falls asleep. And when he wakes up, Jason is nowhere to be seen, and he’s got a sticky note on his face that has just the word _sorry_ on it in Jason’s half-cursive chicken scratch, followed by a smiley face.

He’s got a text from Roy saying Jason showed up about twenty minutes prior and that he’s safe and sleeping.

The bitterness from before dissolves a little with the knowledge that his little brother was being taken care of.

He stands, stretching from the hours spent sleeping on the couch, and resolves to ask Tim to explain how they’re going to make the new anti-toxin. Later, though. He’s got an ex-boyfriend to threaten.


End file.
